Sojourn in Canaan (Poem)

You are Abraham
Your Upper West Side tent is open
To the five boroughs of New York
Waiting to share hospitality and the word of God

I am a tired traveler
Fatigued from trekking tent to tent
To find them closed, closing
The Tent is getting smaller each day

You buzz me in
And bring me libations
As I wash my feet
Of footwear and judgmental stares

Your tent is open to me
And you thrust
an unsolicited blessing upon me
I don’t feel like just another stranger

“Some people in this world fit in
some don’t
some straddle that precipice
they make a difference
you’re one of those”

Whether I am a straddler or not
And whether or not you actually believe it
Isn’t as important as me believing it
Preparing to resume wandering in the wilderness

So I wake up and tell myself
People will care to hear my words
The meaning I place in letters and syntax
Isn’t wasted

Yes, some people will toss those gems
In the repository of rejected ideas
But others will retrieve them, polish them, and treasure them
Because they can’t string the words together on their own